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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24167968">Of Sunshine and Fire</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mo_olelo/pseuds/mo_olelo'>mo_olelo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>ITZY (Band), NCT (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Magic, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn, arranged marriage but it's not what you think, i'll write more tags as i go, mark lee is a little clueless, markhyuck, sunchild donghyuck, this is a markhyuck fic i swear</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 21:41:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,035</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24167968</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mo_olelo/pseuds/mo_olelo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Wai and the Konane have been at war since the genesis of their known history. In the midst of a flimsy truce, two boys raised to be enemies meet when Mark Lee of the Wai is crying too damn loud in the woods.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lee Donghyuck | Haechan &amp; Mark Lee, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. I. let's just sit quietly and listen to the secrets the rain wants to tell us</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>chapter title is a poem by John Mark Green</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mark was on his knees as the sun was setting, in the rain—the irony wasn’t lost on him then and it isn’t now—sobbing. Sobbing the kinds of tears that create rivers and oceans in folklore and fairytales. The kinds of tears that seem to unforgivingly suck you dry, wrenching torrents and tidal waves from the pits of your stomach, flooding your mind and body to drown anyone foolish enough to get too close. The kinds of tears that speak for themselves; begging for something you can’t form the words to beg for yourself. </p><p>The kinds of tears that scream and kick loud enough to draw something in with tendrils of curiosity tugging at its toes.</p><p>“What are you doing?” A voice asked. Mark’s head snapped up, his tear-filled eyes widening in shock. Hiccuping from crying and chest still shaking, he couldn’t see. His bleary vision was further interrupted by the insistent rainfall, but he tried to make out the figure before him. He wore a black pelt with some sort of collared tunic underneath upturned, arms hidden inside the elaborate folds of the covering. Mark had to crane his neck to get a look at his face. Blinking madly to clear his vision, Mark saw a boy. A boy who, despite the dark grey shadows of the storm, seemed to be warm--glow, even--as if his skin were infused with gold and sunshine. He seemed to be quite young, around Mark’s own newfound age of 19. Mark’s eyes continued their upward climb and the gaze that met Mark’s then was adorned with black. </p><p>Their eyes met for only a moment but Mark felt it burn. He jerked his head back down and fixed his vision intensely on the growing wet spots on his knees where his tunic was still smashing into the soaked grass.</p><p>The initial shock of the strange visitor was quickly fading, and Mark became aware of a new wave of anxiety cresting. It rose from his toes to his throat and threatened to take over. He was the only one who knew of this clearing in the wood so far behind his village, he was sure of it. In all of his years he was the only one who ever visited this place. When he discovered the difficult path through the thorn brush many years earlier he was determined to keep it hidden, away from the prying eyes of everyone else. It was the only place he could truly be alone. So how did this person find him?  </p><p>“How,” Mark croaked, his throat burning and bubbling with protest from its previous activity of weeping and wailing like the banshees of old children are told about in bedtime stories. His chest heaved with that stark reminder amidst his confusion why he was out there in his clearing in the first place. Why he was on his knees in the rain, adding to the water feeding the earth beneath him. Mark looked up again tentatively, staring as water droplets seemed to stream off the pelt so close in front of him, not even bothering to soak into the furs and claw their way to the young man beneath. Mark found himself thinking that for even a few minutes, this stranger was worth more attention than his current situation. His own confusion about the compromise of his hideout outweighed the increasing pressure at the base of his skull and the tingling in his arms, reminding Mark of what awaits him in the village.</p><p>The boy was still waiting for a response, having an air of patient indifference about him. Mark forced himself to open his mouth, pushing past the angry knot in his throat that threatened to make him boil over in tears once more. “How did you find this place?”</p><p>“I asked you first,” the boy chirped back. Mark coughed, choking on surprise and perhaps a shade of indignation. He looked up again to meet the boy’s gaze. He still felt that odd burn, but he ignored it. The glowing boy’s eyes were black, somehow glassy. But it seemed as if they were hollow, devoid of any color, rather than simply being dark. There was more behind those blank eyes, and Mark wondered faintly how far into this boy he would be able to see if he tried.</p><p>“I’m crying,” Mark finally conceded, in exchange for an answer to his own question.</p><p>“Well why are you crying?”</p><p>“I asked you first.”</p><p>The boy scrunched his nose at that. His black eyes seeming to brighten just a fraction before dimming once again, never looking away from Mark’s. “I felt sorrow.”</p><p>It was Mark’s turn to scrunch his nose. “That doesn’t seem like an answer.”</p><p>“Well it is, so it’s my turn again. Why are you crying?”</p><p>The boy hadn’t moved from his position. He still looked down at Mark with the same indifference—or could it be curiosity? Mark noticed with faint interest that the boy wasn’t wet. Water seemed to stream off not only his pelt, but the rest of him as well. His blonde hair was golden and gleaming, perfectly dry as the rain slid off of it uselessly, ignored. Something rang in Mark's brain, but it was so distant he forgot about it as soon as he felt it.</p><p>“I’m crying because I’m sad, how did you find this place?” </p><p>That seemed to elicit a response. The boy huffed and fell onto the ground in front of Mark, crossing his legs and leaning back on his hands, still hidden by his pelt. “I found this place because of you, okay? You were so loud with your anger and sadness I’m surprised the entire population of the planet isn’t here asking what the hell your problem is.”</p><p>An actual answer surprised Mark than he thought it would. “I wasn’t that loud,” Mark muttered, lowering his eyes to find a strand of grass to tug out of the ground. </p><p>“Yeah, actually you were. Any sounds you made with your throat were drowned out by your chest anyway," the boy huffed again, that seemed to be a habit of his. </p><p>Mark looked up again, now really confused. “What? Is there a difference?”</p><p>The boy just fixed him a blank, almost bored stare, “Obviously.”</p><p>They sat in silence after that, looking in directions that didn’t include the other. Mark felt his breath catch as he tried to force some extra air into his lungs. A headache was hollowing out the space behind his eyes, the result of his body ejecting as much liquid as possible out of his face for the past hour. Frankly, Mark was growing tired of it. For the first time since leaving the village that morning, he allowed the water flowing over him to heal. Mark took his first calm breath of the day as the cold droplets soaked into his skin. It fueled his body, collected the broken shards of his thoughts and emotions and carefully, lovingly piecing them back together. He felt his headache melt away and the swollen red skin around his eyes calm and smooth itself over, even his throat was soothed from its roughened state. Mark’s hair plastered to his forehead no longer felt infuriating, neither his drenched tunic suffocating. The water pressing against his skin now was welcome, familiar. However, it didn’t stop the dread from gathering and swirling in his stomach, weighing him down until he felt he couldn’t rise to his feet.</p><p>“Oh, that explains a lot, I guess.” The boy’s voice brought Mark out of his daze. His gaze found the other’s again, that burn never quite receding. Where before it was growing curious, his eyes were now guarded, almost cold. He was carefully drawing himself in, shifting his weight so he was crouching instead of sitting. “You’re Wai, aren’t you?” </p><p>“Of course, aren’t you?” Mark knew the answer he was going to get, but he was too busy piecing things together for himself to care.</p><p>“No. I’m Konane.” </p><p>Right. Mark couldn’t believe it took him this long to catch on. He had never seen a Konane in person before, but he had been taught their telltale signs since before he could speak. The golden skin, with hair to match. Unabashed boldness, but that one may be more for this particular Konane. Not getting wet. The only thing that didn’t match up with Mark’s mental checklist were his eyes. They were black, empty. He had always been taught their eyes were fiery, angry, dangerous. </p><p>Mark shook his head, shaking loose his lingering confusion. That didn’t matter right now. Right now he had to get the hell out of there. </p><p>His legs felt dead beneath him from kneeling on them for so long, but he forced himself up anyway. Mark feigned calm, swiping grass away from his waterlogged pants as he stood. The boy mirrored his movements, drawing his pelt tighter around himself as he rose, still so glaringly dry. “I’ll ask you one more time,” Mark started, “How did you find this place.” He just had to be sure.</p><p>“I told you,” the boy was now openly glowering at him, “You were so fucking loud I could have heard you from a million miles away.” He was backing up, slowly. Good.</p><p>“Okay, well, we can just go back home, wherever that may be.” The boy snorted. Mark was starting to lose his nerve, he just wanted to be anywhere else. “We don’t have to tell anyone what happened, or think about today ever again.”</p><p>“Sounds good to me.”</p><p>They continued backing away from each other, finding the edges of the clearing only when they bumped into the walls of trees and thorn brush behind them. “Good,” Mark answered. He found the worn, but still hidden exit through the brush he had formed over years of entering and exiting this clearing that had served him so well for so long. He wondered with a heavy heart if this would have to be the last time he ever came here. There was no way his safe haven was safe anymore. He looked around, taking in the way the trees surrounding it rose regally, almost bowing--they had watched him grow. A few of the wildflowers that littered the ground on the treeline had just started to bloom, and Mark longed to salvage even one.</p><p>“I won’t come back here, if that’s what you’re wondering,” the boy called out, waiting for Mark to turn away first. He seemed to grow impatient, irritated as Mark lingered. </p><p>Mark chose to believe him, and some of the dread in his stomach subsided, but Mark was confused, again. He couldn’t imagine why this person would tell him that, let alone do so in an attempt to try and assure him. “Thank you.”</p><p>“In exchange for one thing,” the pit in Mark’s stomach returned in record time. “Tell me why you were crying, for real. It’s kind of your fault we ended up here, anyway, I feel I deserve to know.” </p><p>Mark blinked. The boy looked at him expectantly, those eyes still burning him as they met his own. Backing into his exit, Mark answered one last time before disappearing into the brush, “I just got engaged.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. II. eyes open wide in the dark</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Where Mark is Very Important and he doesn't know why.<br/>Taking a step back to a few weeks before chapter one.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>chapter title is from day6's song Zombie</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Water grants life, heals and calms, it is the host of all creation.”</p><p>Mark knelt on white sand that shone silver in the moonlight during the year’s end remembrance ritual of his people. It was one of the few times during the year the whole village gathered, collectively creating a crescent facing the ocean. </p><p>One of the village elders stood at the center, ankle-deep in the steadily rising tide. Traditional robes of cobalt and azure dripped in swaths from his shoulders, lined with gleaming silver thread that swirled and whispered against the blues like the white sea foam that left trailing kisses to the base of the garments where the elder met the water. </p><p>He regaled the history of the Wai, their beginning as sea nomads; borne from rain and storms and foam. He told of how the sea and moon spirits granted them with their magic, deeming those early peoples worthy enough to be entrusted with the secrets of the ocean. </p><p>“This magic has been passed down generation to generation through the blood of our people,” the elder continued, voice clear and reverent. </p><p>Everyone knew the next part of the story, none of them would ever dare forget it and yet each of them would give anything to be able to. Faces all around Mark hardened and he, too, lowered his head and felt the centuries old anger seethe. </p><p>“Our ancestors eventually settled on land, but still clung to the ocean’s shores and her care. They acquainted a neighboring tribe who inhabited the valley of dead volcanoes. They worshiped the sun and her flame.” Mark bristled. When he was young, his father told him the volcanoes in the valley ran cold because the Konane drained them of their fire. Drinking it to make it a part of themselves. Images of lava hair and flicking flame tongues haunted his nightmares for weeks until his mother held him close, petting his hair and assuring him they were just people too. Mark wasn’t so easily convinced, but the nightmares ceased all the same.</p><p>“As our people grew and prospered along the shores, the Konane grew envious of our way of life, our peace, and decided to destroy it. In the night, hidden from their gods, they set fire to entire Wai villages and then had the audacity to claim innocence and be offended when accused.”</p><p>The two tribes knew nothing but war since then. Only in recent years did the tribes attempt a truce, primarily to preserve the lives of their fathers and sons. Fighting and loss did not have to ensue for the tribes to feel the chasm of hostility that separated them, still so deep even all of the oceans and rivers and lakes on the earth could never fill it. Never heal it.</p><p>“Remember the lives of our kin past and present lost at the hand of flame and hatred. Remember even as our tribes move towards the uncharted waters of peace, the atrocities committed against us. Remember the love of the sea, the water, the source of all life. Remember the moon, who pushes and pulls the oceans in her infinite wisdom.”</p><p>Mark did remember. As time distanced the Wai from their ancestors, their magic slowly faded. Legend said the first bestowed with the spirit’s magic could summon great tsunamis, stop storms, heal deadly ailments. Now the extent of the magic included being able to ward off the common cold or provide comfort. Some had no magic at all. But Mark had always possessed a greater connection to the water and their ancient magic than most. Whispers behind hands as he passed would suggest it was because the spirits favored him and his family for being heads of the village. Others thought he must have sold his soul in exchange for power.</p><p>Mark didn’t mind the rumors or looks. He didn’t know why he was this way either. But he would talk to the moon sometimes, and occasionally ask her why. She hadn’t answered yet, but that didn’t stop Mark from wondering.</p><p>To close the ritual, each villager in turn took the elder’s hand to walk through the shallows of the lapping tide before returning to their place in the crescent.</p><p>“Entering the water symbolizes looking back to our past, to the spirits who have blessed us and to our previous way of life. It reminds us of our beginning.” The elder let go of one of the village healers as she stepped out of the foam, reaching for Mark next. He offered a sage smile as he guided Mark through the movements. “Leaving it again represents our transition to land, and looking forward to the future.”</p><p>This had always been Mark’s favorite part of the ritual. The sea was never so loving as when she was being praised. Water embraced his ankles as he slowly, reverently, passed through it. Mark closed his eyes, letting the ocean soothe his lingering anger, reassurance flowing up from the soles of his feet straight to his heart.</p><p>Mark stepped out of the water, finding a place next to his best friend Johnny. He smiled, mostly to himself, sure that the upcoming year would be great.</p><p>⚘</p><p>Everything was a disaster.</p><p>It had been two months since the year’s end ritual, and Mark had aptly determined that this year would not, in fact, be great. </p><p>His father stood in the doorway, leaned against the doorframe. A picture of nonchalance--tainted by his fingertips digging into his arms where they were crossed.</p><p>“Mark, you’re overreacting,” his father’s voice was calm but quickly sharpening itself into an edge. They were in Mark’s bedroom, where he had been at his desk trying to decipher a coded message from Johnny, probably telling of his latest attempt at wooing Jaehyun, the most recent target of Johnny’s fleeting affections.</p><p>“Overreacting? Our village hasn’t participated in arranged marriages in over a century! Why do we have to now? Why does it have to be me!” Anxiety reached Mark first, groping at his chest.</p><p>His father sighed, and Mark saw an age beyond his years in the way he brought his hands up to massage into his eyes, to tug at the prematurely grey hairs behind his ears. The weight of his position as head of the village had always raised him up and dragged him back down simultaneously.</p><p>“The Wai have grown distant,” he responded with one hand still pinched to the bridge of his nose. “In relations, rather than proximity. War with the Konane no longer keeps us so tightly bound.”</p><p>Mark turned his face to follow the motion of a few specks of dust as they caught sunlight streaming in from a window on the other side of the room. He listened, not quite comprehending, and anger laced with the rope of anxiety, tightening to force the air and sanity out of his lungs.</p><p>“What does that have to do with me, with my whole future?” His eyes didn’t leave the dust. One speck in particular landed on his bedside table, right next to a knife he had sharpened from the tusk of a wild boar he had slain on his sixteenth birthday.</p><p>His father took a few steps forward, blocking the light and the dust from view. “The elders think it wise to deepen the connections between our sister villages. Sons and daughters from each will be presented and paired.” </p><p>“The elders are probably senile.”</p><p>“Mark.” A warning.</p><p>He looked up to meet an open glare, any dwindling drops of patience now run dry. “Deepest apologies, I just don’t understand how a few marriages between a bunch of teenagers are supposed to help anything. Would it be so bad for the villages to become independent? Develop their own identities?”</p><p>“It’s about keeping the Wai united, it is a great honor to represent our people this way.” </p><p>“I won’t--”</p><p>“I don’t recall giving you a choice.” The words rang with a cold finality. Mark clenched his fists, the hem of his tunic crumpling as his knuckles turned white.</p><p>His father raised a hand to cut off any further arguments as he continued.</p><p>“You will meet with the matchmaker in a week's time, she will tell you who you are to marry. You will court this young man or woman for a few days or a few months. I don’t particularly care. You will marry them and strengthen the bond of our tribe through your blood. You will do so eagerly and without struggle to bring honor to our family, to our village, and to our tribe. Do you understand me?”</p><p>Mark searched his eyes for any sign of give, any indication he had a chance of fighting back. But in this moment he was not his father, mighty yet gentle, always willing to give advice and listen before providing an answer. His father, who sat awake with him countless times before to sing softly away tears lost over boys or girls or a particularly nasty comment that Mark couldn’t shake on his own.</p><p>He was head of the village; a man who had been beaten over and over again by the weathering storms of leadership and duty and instead of crumbling, was refined by it. Mark dropped his head, scrutinizing the fabric still being creased in his grip.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>He softened slightly at the surrender, lowered his hand and sighed an olive branch. “If I could have swayed them from you I already would have done. The elders say the spirits chose you, not them.”</p><p>An indignant scoff escaped Mark before he could stop it, not that he would have wanted to anyway. “And here I thought the moon and I were friends.”</p><p>Mark stood, his chair almost falling backward from the force. This conversation had nothing more to offer either of them. He grabbed his knife and the first pelt he could reach. He made for the bedroom door, Johnny’s note long forgotten.</p><p>He thought he could feel his father’s eyes boring holes into his back even as he disappeared into the brush line a mile behind the village.</p><p>⚘</p><p>Mark tugged at his sleeves. He wore one of his traditional robes, a sea green piece woven in a way that made it shift and flow. The push and pull of his footsteps tugged at the fabric like the tide.</p><p>He had insisted on travelling to the matchmaker alone. He also insisted on walking. Being forced to marry a complete stranger didn’t exactly fill Mark with the desire to gallop on valiant horseback to meet his fate.</p><p>The journey took most of the day, Mark worried at a silver bracelet he wore that used to belong to his mother the whole way, his wrist turning red and the sky orange as he followed the last of the marked path to the matchmaker’s hut.</p><p>She lived independent of any village, hidden in the foliage of the forest. Yet somehow she knew everyone that came to ask of her services. Even if his village and a few others didn’t seek her out anymore, many still did, so she stayed in her clearing, awaiting those that sought to be told whom to marry. Mark frowned at the thought. He didn’t know anyone who had seen the matchmaker, but he couldn’t imagine why they would want to. </p><p>Mark noted that her hut was smaller than he expected, a simple structure of wood and palm raised a few feet off the ground by steady poles. Bright purple poppies and cornflowers for fertility were planted all around the small clearing, the only indication that this place was anything special.</p><p>Mark climbed the steps and raised a fist to tap the door when it swung open before he could. He blinked as an exceptionally old woman took his raised wrist and led him inside without a word.</p><p>The inside of the hut was as plain as the outside. The main room had a short wood table at the center with two worn cushions on the floor at either side. It was otherwise empty, save for a few drying bunches of plants Mark couldn’t identify hanging from the ceiling. The matchmaker let go of his wrist to sit at the seat opposite him and gestured for Mark to do the same.</p><p>She watched Mark, eyes bright. He stared back, not quite sure what he was waiting for. She was old, and small. She wore a heavy grey robe over her shoulders and her white hair folded on top of her head. The folds shifted when she cocked her head to the side, eyes crinkling as she smiled an almost mischievous smile.</p><p>“Hello, my dear, I am aunty Eun,” her voice was silvery and smooth. Aged but not quite cracking yet. </p><p>Mark swallowed, finding it hard to breathe. Under the table he reached for his bracelet, rubbing it between his fingers to remind himself it was still there. “I’m Mark, from the Kahakai village.”</p><p>Eun nodded. “I know who you are, I’ve been waiting for you for some time.”</p><p>“You have?”</p><p>“Yes, your marriage seems to be very important to the spirits,” she looked past him, at what he didn’t know, and spoke so softly Mark couldn’t be sure he heard her completely, “though I’m afraid we may not be able to appease them quite yet.”</p><p>The idea of having a marriage that was important to anyone, let alone the spirits, sent a cold wave through Mark. He would be married to a stranger whom he had to protect and provide for and learn to love, and he would have to do so to what? Show the rest of the tribe that if he could play nice with other villages they could too? People were already depending on him, now the spirits were, too. His throat burned. </p><p>“So...how does this work?” His fingers found the fringe at the corners of the cushion he was sitting on.</p><p>Eun’s eyes sharpened as she focused on Mark again. She brought her hands up and over the table, wrinkled fingers inviting Mark’s to join. He realized for the first time how clammy his hands were, hastily wiping them against his robes before placing them atop Eun’s. </p><p>Eun closed her eyes and lowered her head. “Hands, you see, cannot lie. They tell me who you are, in their lines and ridges. Where your energy is carried and where you carry it to.” She squeezed gently, almost in question. “They tell me who you have the capacity to love, and who has the capacity to love you.”</p><p>Her hands ripped away from Mark’s as she spoke those last words, as if they burned her with their answer.</p><p>Mark wasn’t sure if he should reach out or stay away. “Are you okay? Did something happen?” His stomach twisted watching Eun rub her hands, soothing the invisible burn. Apparently he settled for asking stupid questions.</p><p>She looked up from her hands, again searching for something within him. Her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed. Mark could do nothing but stare back, he felt he was being picked part piece by piece, layers of skin and secrets slowly being pulled away from him as Eun tried to find what she was looking for.</p><p>Abruptly, Eun stood. Mark followed, almost tripping himself as he untangled his ankles. Her smile returned with sparkling eyes to match, and Mark noticed they were grey.</p><p>“Ryujin.”</p><p>“Excuse me?”</p><p>“She will be your bride.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yes hello, no Hyuck in this chapter but Mark has to be shoved to the woods somehow first, right?<br/>Again, thank you for reading if you made it this far, this world seems to take more solid shape the more I write, so I hope you bear with me as I let it grow.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. III. and every night he poured out his heart to the moon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Where Mark needs a Talk to give him a push.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Ryujin?” The name tasted foreign on Mark’s tongue, far away and somehow other.</p><p>Eun maintained her smile as she walked around the table, sweeping Mark backward to the door with her gray-clad arms. “Yes, my dear. You’ll find her if you continue along the path that led you here, as a matter of fact. It will lead you straight to the Niele village, and to your bride.”</p><p>Mark repeated the name over and over in his mind. Twisting and pulling at its edges to try and see it better. Ryujin. Ryu-jin. He had never heard it before. What did it mean? She lived in Niele, the closest village to his own, he had even been there once or twice before when his father traveled to communicate with other village leaders. Had he seen her before and never realized?</p><p>The door opened and Eun was gently shoving Mark through it before it occurred to him he didn’t want to leave yet. He turned to face her, gripping the doorframe to keep her from pushing him out completely.</p><p>“Wait, what do I do now?” The burn in his throat spread to the rest of his body and settled behind his eyes.</p><p>Knowing her name made it real. No more vague, shapeless shadow of an idea of a person. Ryujin. Mark had his responsibility to the tribe, and now he shared it with this girl, this young woman he didn’t know. In another life, they probably could have lived the extent of their days without ever hearing each other’s names, and now they were to be put on a pedestal as an example for everyone to see. The realizations crashed over Mark, knocking from his chest to his knees, threatening to topple him over.</p><p>His questions fell like rain, soaking them both. “How do I know who she is? What does she look like? What if she sees me and doesn’t want to go through with the marriage? Has she already come to see you? Why her? Do I go to her now or wait--”</p><p>A gentle palm on Mark’s cheek made his words slow and then stop. All of his questions and more still buzzed around the room as he looked down at Eun, eyes wide and pleading.</p><p>“My dear,” she began, and Mark wondered what it was that she hid in her expression this time, “I have told you all I am permitted to. What you do now is entirely your choice.” She withdrew her hand and Mark was almost sure what he saw was pity. “I understand that you have a great deal of pressure upon your shoulders, in more ways than you can understand. It is an unfortunate burden to bear, but I have seen today that it can only be carried by you.”</p><p>Eun led him out the door again, and Mark didn’t have the strength in him to fight. Everything felt fuzzy, distanced. He was underwater and the world was above, trying to speak to him and he was trying to listen but the words came to him lost and distorted.</p><p>The door clicked shut behind him, sharp enough to cut through his daze.</p><p>Mark couldn’t see. He blinked a few times, trying to adjust to the darkness surrounding him. He could have sworn he was only inside the hut for a few minutes, but the sky told him otherwise. His vision clung to the faint rays of light emitted from the moon. Mark looked up to find her high above, she was small and waning, hiding in her own shadow. </p><p>The burn behind Mark’s eyes never quite went away, confusion and frustration pushing against dwindling resolve. But he fought back impending tears even now, when only the spirits could see him.</p><p>“I don’t understand. Help me, please, tell me why,” he asked so softly he wasn’t sure the request would reach the spirit, she seemed so far away tonight, so high and regal and unattainable. Mark thought it may be for the best if it didn’t, because he didn’t know what exactly he was asking her to tell.</p><p>He closed his eyes anyway, and waited--the way he always did when he asked her a question and hoped against hope she would answer this time. He waited and opened his palms at his sides, imagining he was holding her precious light. He waited and let her glow on his nose and his eyebrows and the tips of his hair. He waited and knew he could wait forever, but an answer would never come.</p><p>And of course it didn’t.</p><p>Mark sighed and sat down on the top step leading to the matchmaker’s door. He wrung his hands and watched how the motion made his bracelet dance. The moon may not answer, but that never stopped him from talking to her anyway. </p><p>Mark bared his heart to the moon, he always had. One night when he was young he ran to the beach after a fight with Johnny over the rules of some game he couldn’t remember the name of now. Mark had knelt in cold sand, crying hot tears of frustration and betrayal and youth. The sea was there, but she was young too, inattentive and playing games of her own against the shore. Only the light of the moon seemed take notice of Mark’s tears, comforting him as he complained to her about Johnny and his dumb face and how he was definitely making up fake rules. He talked to her all that night, and never stopped.</p><p>Now he told her about the problems within the tribe and how they were the reason the elders decided to go back to old tradition, to binding marriages and precedents established by young couples. He told her that he thought it was stupid. He spoke of his role in everything, finding her in the sky when he mentioned the spirits choosing him.</p><p>“Of course, you would know all about that, wouldn’t you?  You have something to do with all of this, I just don’t know what it is yet. Everyone keeps saying you chose me, to get married, to fix everything.” The tears crawled back up his throat, wanting so badly to make themselves known. He drew his knees to his chest, burying his face into his robes that shimmered in the moonlight even now. “But what if I can’t, what if you chose wrong?”</p><p>Mark sat, silent for a while. He eyed the path at the bottom of the stairs from over his knees still lined with those suggestive flowers, now blue in the night. One direction of this fragrant path led back home, and the other to his fate. He steeled himself, forcing the tears and the confusion away from his eyes, his throat, and stood. His fingers found his bracelet again, rubbing it as he started walking.</p><p>⚘</p><p>The sun was just barely rising to paint the horizon with vibrant oranges and yellows when Mark knocked on Johnny’s door. A few years older than himself, Johnny lived alone in a small dwelling close to the edge of the village, so Mark didn’t have to worry about anyone else finding out he was back. He shuffled back and forth on his feet as he knocked again, worrying at the hems of his sleeves. Johnny was never up this early.</p><p>A sigh of relief tumbled from Mark’s chest when the door opened, but the expression on Johnny’s face through the gap in the door cut it off quickly enough. Even his brown hair managed to look miffed where it fell in heaps over Johnny’s forehead. Mark smiled up at the taller man sheepishly.</p><p>“Hey, can I hide out here for a bit?” Mark asked, “I, um, I don’t want my dad to know I’m back yet.” Johnny’s face was devoid of any expression, but Mark could see the gears behind his eyes turning slowly, deciding between kicking him off his doorstep out of spite or letting him in out of curiosity. He finally raised an eyebrow and stepped back, opening the door enough for Mark to stumble in. </p><p>The home looked the same as it always did, simple and a little messy, pelts and weapons littering most surfaces with the smell of blade polish thick throughout. It was the home of a warrior. Johnny leaned to pick up a thick woven blanket from the floor and shoved it into Mark’s arms. When he spoke, his voice was rough and low from disuse, “I’m going back to sleep. You can drop anywhere, I don’t really care right now, but wake me again before midday and I will not hesitate to knife you with your own blade, got it?” Mark nodded and Johnny left him.</p><p>Alone again, Mark remembered how tired he was. He walked to and from the matchmaker’s hut in a day, he really should have just taken a horse. Exhaustion dripped from Mark’s eyelids and fingertips to pool at his feet. He found a heavy grey pelt slung over a chair and spread it on the floor, too tired to be bothered with finding a proper place to rest. Mark curled into it, hugging the blanket Johnny had given him.</p><p>Sleep called to him and he called back.</p><p>Heavy footfalls echoed in Mark’s ears. He sat up to escape the sound, regretting his choice of resting on the floor. Mark blearily rubbed the sleep from his eyes, noting that he had slept well into the day based on the thick swaths of sunlight pouring in from the windows.</p><p>Mark turned his head and discovered the source of the incessant noise. Johnny pacing. He paced when he needed to think, when he was worried, when he was just too restless to sit. It was a wonder his floors didn’t have divots worn into them from his walking.</p><p>He noticed Mark get up, and immediately came to sit cross-legged across from him on the pelt. His mouth was set in a hard line and he held his ankles with both hands.</p><p>Mark reached up to rub his eyes again before asking, “Um, is there something on your mind?” The words scratched at his throat. He really needed some water.</p><p>“I think I love him.”</p><p>Mark froze. He forgot what water was.</p><p>“You think you love, who, Jaehyun?”</p><p>“Who else? Didn’t you get my message? I sent it a while ago.”</p><p>He tried to remember the note, abandoned the day his father came to talk to him about the marriage. He hadn’t managed to crack the code on that one anyway, it was really hard and Mark doubted he would be able to figure it out even if he wanted to.</p><p>The pair had been developing an intricate code system since they were children, but Johnny had always been better at it than him, adding layers to make sure no ‘spies’ could read their top secret correspondence. The extent of the letters contained details about crushes or whether they would hang out soon and when. Regardless of the content, it took Mark far longer to decipher messages.</p><p>“I did, but you did something to it again so I got stuck,” he answered, it was mostly true.</p><p>Johnny frowned, almost pouted. “I’ll have you know, that message contained probably the most sensitive content of any message sent ever before, so of course I added an additional layer of security.”</p><p>“I’m sorry!” Mark raised his hands in surrender. “I’m here now, what did it say?”</p><p>“It said, Mark, that I had just returned from spending a day with the most beautiful man on the face of the planet earth and that I would die for him in a heartbeat.”</p><p>Mark deadpanned. “How is that any different from when you liked Taeyong? Or Taeil? Or Jungw--” Johnny cut him off with a punch in the arm. Mark hissed and massaged the injured spot, Johnny had never been known to pull his punches.</p><p>“It’s different, asshole, because I mean it this time.” He pulled part of the blanket into his lap, absentmindedly pulling at some of the fraying edges, suddenly timid. “He’s just so...I feel so at home with him? I really want to be with him all the time, listen to him talk or laugh or just breathe. It’s hard to explain, and I know it’s early, but I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this about someone before.”</p><p>Johnny stared expectantly at Mark, still hunched over and playing with his blanket, and he looked so small. He was one of the tallest people in the village, but sometimes he just looked minuscule.</p><p>Moments like these reminded Mark of their first meeting when they were only five and eight years old. He had been weaving through the bushes behind the schoolhouse, escaping the glares and prying stares from the adults. Ever since his powers manifested they seemed awfully interested in him, but not in a way he liked. He tripped over something and fell, when he rose he saw that the something was a foot. A foot belonging to a small boy hidden in the brush with his legs crossed and tucked into his chest.</p><p>The boy laughed as Mark dusted the dirt from his tunic, and stood to help him, shocking Mark with their sudden height difference. He remembered wondering how he tucked his huge limbs so well in that little space between the bushes. Mark asked the boy why he was hiding, and he said he just liked to sometimes. They bonded over this odd similarity, as children often do, and went to find other good hiding spots together after that, and for many years after.</p><p>Mark sighed at the reminiscence, he did notice a difference in Johnny. He was usually all talk when it came to loving, never ending silver compliments and smooth innuendos that made everyone around him blush scarlet, scandalized. Something was missing this time around, but Mark couldn’t quite place it.</p><p>“Well, if Jaehyun is the one, go for it, I guess?” Mark half played along, intrigued but not entirely convinced at Johnny’s change of heart quite yet.</p><p>The rest of the blanket was ripped from Mark when Johnny hugged it to his chest and flopped to the floor. “How, exactly, am I supposed to do that? This is the single greatest love of my life we’re talking about, Mark.”</p><p>Scoffing, Mark kicked Johnny’s leg, knocking it over. “I don’t know, that’s not exactly an issue I’ll ever have to deal with, so you’re on your own there.”</p><p>Johnny tossed him a confused look before understanding set in. He shot up to sit again. “Shit, Mark I’m so sorry, I forgot,” he rubbed his neck, looking almost pained.</p><p>“Oh! No, that’s not what I meant,” Mark spluttered, waving his arms to clear the apology. “It’s just--It’s okay, really.”</p><p>Mark’s best friend searched his face carefully, picking him apart like only he could. “And how are you doing, really?”</p><p>“All right, I guess. Even if I wasn’t, it’s not like I could do much about it,” Mark chuckled dryly. That’s how he felt, dry. </p><p>Johnny nodded, “And the matchmaker, how did..?” He didn’t have to finish, he wanted to ask so badly, Mark could tell.</p><p>“Her name is Ryujin.”</p><p>“Her? That’s a little unexpected.”</p><p>“Not really, union by blood and all of that.”</p><p>A hum came from Johnny as he looked out the window. He stood up, slapping his knees. “Well in that case, we can win the hearts of our one true loves together.” </p><p>Mark made a confused noise. “Do I need to remind you that I’m being forced against my will into this? As in, I didn’t choose her? I’ve never even met her.” He crossed his arms, face set in a frown.</p><p> Johnny smirked, and stretched before he spoke, seeming to pull his thoughts together in the process.</p><p>“The way I see it, oh, chosen one, is that an arranged marriage doesn’t have to mean an unhappy one. Other villages do it all the time, right? You can be upset for a while, but you can’t change anything, so don’t bother freaking out about something you have no control over.” Johnny smiled down at Mark brightly, proud of himself and his wise conclusions. He offered a hand, and Mark took it. “Let’s go get them, no matter the reason why.”</p><p>Looking up at Johnny’s confident figure now, it would be easy for anyone to see why he was one of the village’s finest hunters. He was fierce and decisive even in the way he stood. Johnny had trained for years to be a warrior instead, but the war with the Konane halted before he was to report to the front lines. Mark was glad for it.</p><p>Johnny was strong and rarely proven wrong, and Mark allowed his words to ring true in his mind. Something new lapped against his ankles, soft and warm. He let the hope in, spreading from his feet to where their hands met.</p><p>Rising to stand with his best friend, Mark smiled back just a little.</p><p>⚘</p><p>He couldn’t go all the way back to Niele on foot, Mark refused. He also couldn’t go in the same robes he had been wearing for a day straight, now dull and wrinkled. Not to mention he was starving and probably close to death from dehydration. These are the primary reasons Mark used to convince himself he needed to sneak back home.</p><p>Mark skirted along the outside of the village, following a faint path through bushes and low trees he had formed himself over the past few years of creeping from his home to Johnny’s and back again. He knew his desire to stay hidden to be partially irrational, but he didn’t care. Life was easier when others were unaware of his presence. There were no pointed stares or sniffs that always so effectively made his palms clammy and ears turn red.</p><p>He scrambled into his bedroom through the window facing the wood, forever grateful it did so. Mark first cleaned himself in the washroom, not bothering to heat the water stored there first. A plain blue tunic with brown lining replaced his robes, but he decided against removing his bracelet. He found a full waterskin and some food, not worrying about running into his parents. A hunt was out today, with his father probably leading it, while his mother typically spent her afternoons in the weaving hut.</p><p>Leaving a note telling of his intentions to go to Niele, Mark left home for the second time in two days. He snuck to the stables, finding them mostly empty due to the hunt. No one traveled enough to justify owning individual horses, so the village kept all of its steeds together and young warriors paid their dues by tending to the animals.</p><p>Mark’s favorite chestnut brown mare was one of the few left behind. She didn’t suit hunting, too timid for it. He cooed at her, carding through her mane before fitting on her saddle and climbing up. They set off through the village to the trail connecting Kahakai to the rest of the Wai, no longer bothering to hide.</p><p>The passing of seasons in Wai territory was used more as an indication of the time of year rather than the weather. It was a warm place year round, and while technically the second month fell in winter, it felt no different from summer. Mark closed his eyes as he rode at a steady pace, inhaling damp ocean air. Being so close to the sea made the villages humid, but not oppressive. It was a cool and constant reminder of their lineage.</p><p>This far from the shore, sand had long turned to soil, rich and ideal for the forests that lived there. Mark always loved the woodlands, the ancient trees and foliage grand and respectful. They housed his clearing, after all, the one sacred place only he knew about. </p><p>Mark watched the way the trees surrounding the trail seemed to bow as he passed, welcoming him deeper into the wood. They looked royal, straight backed and proud with lush green crowns hugging their branches. He sat taller to greet them as well, nodding occasionally when he felt he should.</p><p>He wasn’t sure what he would do when he met Ryujin. His first challenge would be finding her. That would be his focus, Mark decided, finding his future bride and introducing himself. This could work. Her village presented her for this marriage plot as well, perhaps she had similar desires to make the process as painless, or even enjoyable, as possible. They could learn to love, they could be happy. He would win her heart as he promised Johnny, as he told the spirits and the tribe he would.</p><p>In a pouch tied to his waist sat the twin to his own silver bracelet. They were meant for lovers, and Mark brought it just in case.</p><p>Mark rode until the sun again began its slow retreat to make way for the moon and her night. Torches from Niele were already lit, telling him he had arrived. He dismounted when the trail poured into the village to walk with the reins in hand. People milled about, preparing to retire for the evening. No one paid him any mind as he followed the vaguely familiar path.</p><p>Perhaps he looked lost, prompting a young woman to tap his shoulder from behind. Mark turned at the touch to see a young woman with blunt shoulder-length black hair looking up at him with a slightly amused expression.</p><p>“You don’t look familiar, are you traveling from another village?” She asked, taking the reins from Mark to stroke the mare fondly.</p><p>“Yes, from Kahakai. I’m looking for someone, maybe you can help me?” Mark cleared his throat and straightened his tunic.</p><p>“Well then, welcome to Niele, stranger from Kahakai. Who are you trying to find?”</p><p>He laughed nervously, reaching up to rub the back of his neck, “Her name is Ryujin? I don’t know anything more about her than that, unfortunately.”</p><p>The girl froze, forgetting the horse beneath her hand. She turned to look Mark in the eye, eyebrows knit together. </p><p>“Mark?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Wow another chapter! I can now confidently assure you that Donghyuck will make an appearance very soon, remain patient I beg. Again, thank you so very much if you've made it this far, I'm going to try very hard to put up a new chapter weekly. :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. IV. in the darkness of the night the moon abandoned</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mark sat with Ryujin on the bank of a gurgling river that ran behind Niele. Most Wai villages still overlooked the sea, but not all. However, each remained close to water, it was their lifeblood. The river churned over a section of shallow rocks in front of them, water turning white with foam and turmoil. </p><p>Night moved in completely in the time it took Ryujin to bring him here, the moon being of little help in her still dwindling cycle. It didn’t seem to matter, Ryujin led sure footed and without hesitation, weaving through the rocks and brush as easily as any creature who lived there.</p><p>Cross legged and too straight-backed, anxiety keeping him rigid, Mark was at a loss for words. They swirled in his head, crashed together to splinter and deteriorate, their remnants left to bottlenose at his throat. </p><p>Their meeting wasn’t supposed to happen like this. They were five steps ahead of Mark, he only thought as far as finding out where she lived or worked by asking around, having the time to form a plan and properly introduce himself. Now they were here, alone, with the weight of expectations hanging low and heavy between them.</p><p>He snuck a glance to his left and saw Ryujin staring ahead, expression unreadable. She leaned back on her hands with legs outstretched. Her tunic was well worn and comfortable, tan with a leather belt clasped loose around her waist.</p><p>“Forgive me for not taking you home to meet my parents,” Ryujin broke the silence between them, humor an easy lilt on her tongue.</p><p>Mark coughed on a tight laugh and all of the words he wanted to say. He took a deep breath, focusing on the water in front of him and the way it washed over each rock. It cleansed and calmed and smoothed over any rough edges. “Forgive me for taking you by surprise,” Mark felt her eyes on him. “I figured meeting sooner rather than later would be best for our situation.”</p><p>He turned to face her for the first time since she asked him where he traveled from. Ryujin narrowed her eyes, sharpening her gaze into an expression Mark still couldn’t place. “I heard your village doesn’t seek out the matchmaker anymore, is that true?”</p><p>“Yes.” Mark didn’t see how that had anything to do with them marrying on behalf of the Wai.</p><p>Ryujin’s expression deepened. She hummed in response and faced forward again, leaning to pick up small stones and pebbles littering the shore.</p><p>Mark thought he must be missing something, asking, “Is there something I should know?”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t appreciate it is all, the opportunity you’ve been given,” Ryujin said matter-of-factly as she frowned at the dirt that had found its way under her fingernails, picked at it until her nails were clear again.</p><p>Mark shook his head in disbelief. “What opportunity?”</p><p>Her hands stilled, and she answered gently, still looking down, “To have a marriage sanctioned by the spirits themselves, that’s where the matchmaker gets her ability from, they show her.” Ryujin looked at Mark again with deep brown eyes that reflected what little light the moon emitted, searching for understanding.</p><p>Skepticism came to Mark in swaths of gray smoke, coiling at his toes and wrapping up his legs, waiting for him to invite it further.</p><p>“Are you saying every single couple who goes to the matchmaker lives a blissful, happy life?”</p><p>Ryujin bristled. “Of course not. She is shown potential, you still have to earn the honor of being loved.” She looked him in the eye, challenging.</p><p>She challenged, and he ran.</p><p>“Well we don’t exactly have a choice. This marriage is our responsibility to the tribe, to strengthen the Wai.” The words felt hot and rough, like he was spitting out the very fire his father had fed him those few short weeks ago as an offering, an explanation.</p><p>Ryujin stood, and Mark could read her frustration well enough. This wasn’t going well. “You have to want it. No relationship is successful when fostered in contempt and regret.”</p><p>Johnny’s words rang in Mark’s ears, to win her heart, to make his marriage a happy one despite the cause for it. He wondered if he could do it, be content with having his agency ripped from him. Ryujin spoke with words that cut through his thoughts sharper than any blade could.</p><p>“I am fully prepared to love you, Mark. In my mind, our responsibility to the tribe is secondary, if not completely meaningless. I would have gone to Eun eventually with or without the elders telling me to, it just so happens the spirits chose you and I to be an example to the tribe.” She bent down to ghost her fingertips across Mark’s jaw, and smiled, determination flashing across her eyes. “You will not take away my chances of happiness just because you’re too stubborn to accept a love you did not choose.”</p><p>⚘</p><p>Mark stayed in Niele for almost an entire moon cycle, watched the spirit shrank to nothingness to fullness and back again as he met Ryujin’s family, her friends. He smiled when she did, laughed when his chest was loose enough to allow it. Over time his chest allowed it more often.</p><p>He was trying.</p><p>The first time they went horseback riding together, Ryujin raced ahead, spooking both Mark and his horse. He gaped at her quickly advancing figure, a competitive surge charging through him as he fought to catch up. She turned to look at him, hair flying and open smile blinding, and something warm spread through Mark’s chest.</p><p>After a week of staying in a spare hut near the center of the village while he courted Ryujin, Mark woke to a knock on his door. Assuming it was Ryujin collecting him to go to the river as they had planned the day before, Mark scrambled to get ready, slipping on a plain tunic and grabbing a half full waterskin before opening the door to see a shrunken and gray Niele elder leering up at him.</p><p>The man wore blue gray robes and a disapproving frown. He reminded Mark with a scowl of his responsibility, that he could giggle and mess about all he wanted after he was bound, that not only the tribe but the spirits were waiting for him. Mark’s stomach fell and kept falling even as the elder shuffled away, and his chest constricted every time he saw an elder after that, tightening with every pointed glare he received from them over Ryujin’s shoulders or behind her back.</p><p>He understood it, Mark and Ryujin were the only couple paired in the grand scheme of tribe unity so far, and needed to complete the first marriage before others could follow, but Mark’s understanding did not equal his willingness. Mark continued stalling, waiting for something to tell him he was ready to marry, continued getting to know Ryujin as they went on more walks along the river and rides through the woods and had more talks about anything but their impending marriage.</p><p>Mark could not justify waiting any longer, it had already been too long.</p><p>So on an evening before the moon was to slip once again into obscurity, when she looked like a cut someone sliced into the night sky to reveal something brighter hiding behind, Mark wore a nicer blue tunic and his mother’s silver bracelet. Under this moon Mark took Ryujin to sit on the same bank she brought him to when they first met.</p><p>Mark willed himself to relax, trying to feel safe in the knowledge that he and Ryujin were alone. She had become an easy presence, a friend, and sometimes Mark could picture them as something more. Ryujin smiled at him, reaching up to brush his hair from his forehead. She developed a habit of doing that, and Mark let her, always too tired to ask her not to--unsure if he wanted her not to--and too careless to do it himself.</p><p>The river gurgled, beckoning Mark to come closer, and he did, rising to walk until his ankles felt the churning embrace of water and foam. It soaked into his skin and bones and washed away the restraints that bound his chest and forehead so tightly.</p><p>If the villagers of Niele knew of his heightened connection to their ancient magic, they were much better at hiding it than Mark’s village. Mark liked it, the anonymity he had in Niele. He relished in the way people would toss their gaze away from him just as easily as the wind blew or the ocean flowed. If people questioned his existence, it was because they knew of his relationship with Ryujin, and even then it was she who drew their attention. He didn’t tell Ryujin about it, not yet, not ready for the onslaught of questions or accusations or both that would surely come along with the confession.</p><p>Mark turned to face Ryujin where she sat watching him with his ankles still planted in the river for fear all courage would leave him with the water as it from his feet. He swallowed and reached into the pouch tied at his waist behind him, drawing out a white knuckled fist.</p><p>“Ryujin,” Mark started, and Ryujin tilted up her chin at the address, a fond smile tugging at the edges of her lips. She had been true to what she told Mark that first night. Always willing, always patient with Mark and his halting emotions. She never hesitated to give her hand or heart, when Mark earned it. “I think it’s time, don’t you?” </p><p>Ryujin laughed her laugh that always sounded like a song, her laugh that made Mark freeze when he heard it for the first time, eyes widening and heart jumping almost imperceptibly.</p><p>“Time for what, Mark?” She joked, no real question behind her words. Mark could tell she knew, and how could she not? This was always where they were going to end up, Mark asking for her hand and Ryujin accepting. There was never a choice. The realization made the water run cold beneath his feet.</p><p>So he ran.</p><p>“Time to go to Kahakai. I’ve met your family, your village, you should meet mine.” Mark’s fist found its way back into the pouch. </p><p>Ryujin’s smile dimmed, but did not disappear, and she rose to her feet with a sigh, one hand outstretched in invitation.</p><p>“Let’s go then.”</p><p>“Oh, okay,” Mark almost whispered, leaving the water and reaching to take Ryujin’s hand, and keeping it in his as they walked back to the village, their fingers slotted in a way that--unless investigated closely--suggested they fit together quite nicely.</p><p>Mark spent the night packing, unable to sleep. They rose the next morning with the sun, and traveled with her, too. Before they left, Mark shuffled around helping Ryujin collect her things and prepared the horses, feigning the reason of a person who doesn’t have exhaustion pouring out of his ears. Ryujin’s father gave Mark a firm hand on his shoulder and a promised blessing, her mother gave him a soft smile and a brown tunic emblazoned on the chest with the swirling symbol of Niele.</p><p>The Niele elders gave him stern looks and low reminders.</p><p>Ryujin peppered Mark with questions on the journey back, wanting to know everything; what the ocean looked like when the moon was full and who Mark trusted with his life. Conversation loosened the binds around Mark’s chest, letting his mind wander to his own questions of what their future looked like, whether love or fondness would be there.</p><p>Mark was telling Ryujin about Johnny and his romantic exploits when he started recognizing the wood around him, familiar landmarks telling him he was finally home.</p><p>Midday in the village meant a great deal of commotion, people milling about to complete their daily chores and anything else they could think of to do before the sun went away and took her light with her. It had always been Mark’s least favorite time of day, too loud and too agitated, but he led Ryujin through crowds toward the stables anyway, heart sinking when he saw Ryujin notice the sickeningly familiar sight of eyes on him.</p><p>He hadn't missed this, the way everyone decided one day Mark was some sort of enemy. As a child he thought it was normal to only know what other people’s backs and upturned chins looked like.</p><p>Mark ignored the unspoken question between them, the only one so far Ryujin hesitated to verbalize, and instead got to work putting up the horses and unpacking their things. He noticed the sky darkening on the horizon as he did so.</p><p>“Normally the hunters are out at this time, but they must have seen the storm and decided against a hunt today,” He said as he gestured to the full stalls around them, pointing out that most horses were present. Mark shouldered a few sacks of their belongings with a grunt and nodded in the direction of his childhood home. “My family lives this way, they’ll be excited to meet you.”</p><p>Ryujin took one of the sacks from Mark, giving him a light smile and brushing the hair from his forehead. She wordlessly swung the sack over her shoulder and walked off in the direction Mark indicated, and Mark followed. </p><p>Safely home, Mark felt he could finally let his guard down. Exhaustion rocked through him, but he was happy to see his father, and his mother joined them too when word reached the weaving hut he had returned. Johnny, too, found his way to the hut with Jaehyun in tow to greet Mark. The boy smiled at the ground and his ears turned red when Johnny refused to release his hand, but he smiled at Mark all the same. Mark returned it, Jaehyun had always been kind to him, he was kind to everyone, just quiet.</p><p>They filled the common room of the hut, Mark’s parents on cushions at the low table in the middle of the room, eyes flicking back and forth between Mark’s bracelet gracing his wrist and Ryujin’s starkly bare one in comparison. Jaehyun and Johnny sat on the floor beside Mark and Ryujin rested behind him on a chair, occasionally running her fingers over his nape to calm him when he got too stiff. </p><p>Ryujin was a sight to behold. It only took a few hours of talking and visiting for every person Mark cared about to fall for her, she spun tales about her home, retold the stories she grew up hearing and shared her dreams of seeing the ocean. Mark couldn’t help but swell at how Johnny became transfixed at her silver words, speechless for the first time in probably years.</p><p>Mark’s mother laughed and told Ryujin that traditional Kahakai weddings were held on the shore, with the couple joined as one by the sea. Ryujin bounced behind Mark, her hands flying to his shoulders and squeezing with excitement. Mark went rigid.</p><p>Johnny took the turn of conversation as an invitation to ask questions.</p><p>“Did you two decide to get married here then?”</p><p>Everyone stared at Mark, so expectant. “We-uh, we actually,” Ryujin’s thumb rubbed almost imperceptible circles into his shoulder, it felt like fire. “We haven’t talked about that yet.”</p><p>Johnny gave him a confused look and Jaehyun looked down, ears dusting pink again.</p><p>Mark could see his father’s eyes flash. “And why not?” He asked.</p><p>“We just haven’t. I spent time at her home and it’s only fair she does the same for mine.” Mark knew it sounded flimsy at best. He just needed more time, but the look from his father told him he wouldn’t be getting it.</p><p>“She can do that all you wish while you’re married. You’ll be wed either way, what’s the difference if she sees Kahakai after you make your vows?” The leader in him came out in his questions, the man who needed to look out for the best interest of his village, his tribe. Mark couldn’t blame him, but he couldn’t give him what he wanted, either.</p><p>“We thought it would be best if we were both comfortable with each other’s villages first, and knew the communities, and then decided where to be married. This whole calling is about tribe unity, isn’t it? Wouldn’t we benefit from developing those relationships between our villages?” Mark was lying through his teeth.</p><p>“I thought you two hadn’t spoken about it yet.” </p><p>Silence cut through the room.</p><p>Ryujin broke it. “I don’t mind getting married here, Mark, I like that tradition, with the ocean?” She was just trying to help alleviate the tension, Mark knew, but he was suffocating and couldn’t think straight.</p><p>Mark snapped to his feet. “I haven’t even asked Ryujin to marry me yet, I think we’re all getting ahead of ourselves, here.”</p><p>His father stood to match his height, “You were engaged from the moment the matchmaker told you each other’s names, and from the moment the elders said the spirits chose you to do this.”</p><p>There it was again. The spirits choosing him, the matchmaker telling him a name, everywhere he turned someone was ready to shove Mark in a new direction.</p><p>In front of him, his father stared him down, daring him to contradict his responsibility again. Mark’s mother reached for her husband’s hand, gripping an unresponsive fist to ground him. Jaehyun was fascinated with the table, and flushed crimson. Johnny kept his gaze steady on Mark, looking concerned but unsure of how to help. </p><p>“We aren’t engaged until I ask her for her hand and she says yes. I don’t care what the spirits say,” Mark spat out the words that had been clawing at his throat for weeks.</p><p>Mark didn’t move until he heard Ryujin speak behind him.</p><p>“You still don’t understand.”</p><p>He turned to face her, and she wore the same expression she did when she spoke to him that first night, only now Mark knew how to read it. Ryujin never lied, she stayed true to her word, offering Mark her heart and her hand when he earned it, and occasionally he had. In moments where he opened himself to her, asked her with interest about her thoughts or her dreams, relaxed into her touch, she did not hesitate to love him all she could.</p><p>In other moments, when Mark became closed and cold, she did the same. He quickly learned to read that expression, because he encountered it often.</p><p>Ryujin had disappointment etched into her features, but now it was also laced with anger.</p><p>Mark wilted. He was trying, he had been trying since he was told he would have to go through with an engaged marriage with the entire tribe and all the world watching him. He wasn’t trying hard enough.</p><p>It wasn’t just about him. He looked at Ryujin, how her dark eyes were sharp and hardened, how her pale shoulders sat too high and too tense. She tried just as Mark did, harder even, to make them work. The difference being she really believed in it.</p><p>The pouch around Mark’s waist found its way into his hands, the contents spilling into one open palm. Mark knelt in front of where Ryujin still sat, her fierce gaze never leaving his face, and he could hear Johnny suck in a breath when he saw Mark unclasp the second silver bracelet, silently asking Ryujin to offer her wrist.</p><p>She stuck it out, expression unchanging.</p><p>“Ryujin, of the Niele village of the Wai tribe, will you marry me?” Mark asked, surprising himself with how level he managed to keep his voice.</p><p>“Yes.” Her lips pursed around the word.</p><p>The bracelet shone beautifully against Ryujin’s wrist, looking like it had always belonged there. Mark thought it looked more like a shackle. He brought her hand up in his own, guiding it to his lips to whisper a kiss against her knuckles. Ryujin stayed silent.</p><p>“Kahakai weddings are truly a sight, I’m sure yours will be beautiful. Congratulations,” the village leader said. Mark turned to look at him, rising once again as he did so.</p><p>“Excuse me, I need some air.” Mark brushed past his father and out the front door, gasping as soon as the door was shut firmly behind him. He leaned against the wall of the hut, hands on his knees and breathing jerkily, head swirling and chest constricting.</p><p>Mark did the only thing he knew how to do. He ran. Ran while his mind expanded and pressed against his skull, pounding and pleading for release. He ran as the sun set and storm clouds took hold, threatening torrents at any moment if their demands weren’t met, but no one knew what they wanted. He ran on muscle memory, going to the only place he knew he couldn’t be found by Ryujin, his father, the elders or even Johnny.</p><p>He found the hole in the thick line of brush deep in the woods like one finds their hand at the end of their arm. Low hanging branches had crept lower while Mark was away, thriving angrily from the neglect. Sharp claws tore at Mark’s ankles, his back, his arms where they guarded his bowed head as he crashed through the path.</p><p>The clearing opened itself up to Mark the way it always did, looked the same as it always did, open and empty and safe. Mark looked around frantically, heat building up behind his eyes, taking in the space for the first time in weeks.</p><p>In his absence, weeds had overcome the wildflowers lining the clearing, creeping up hungry and selfish to suffocate and snuff out their beauty. The wildflowers that had been uprooted from the shore along the line where sand met earth, from behind the schoolhouse, from deep within the wood; purples and blues and oranges and yellows Mark brought to the clearing himself over the years to care for and tend to.</p><p>Mark’s throat burned, and he threw himself forward to rip fistfuls of the green intruders out of the flowerbed. His ears roared as the sounds of roots cracking out of the dirt and his own heartbeat pounded against his skull. Everything in front of him became distorted and blurry when his eyes welled up with tears, but he didn’t care. He kept moving, tearing at the weeds without bothering to clear his vision, mind empty of thoughts of weddings or spirits or magic.</p><p>Satisfied, Mark stood breathing heavily, to wipe his forehead with his arm before digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. He looked down at his work and found his flowerbed mutilated. Weeds and petals alike laid scattered and broken on the clearing floor with a thin blanket of roots and earth to warm them. Mark’s hands trembled and his stomach clenched, twisting at the sight.</p><p>His legs felt fuzzy as they carried him backward, away from the treeline and away from the massacre. They gave out somewhere in the middle of the clearing, unable to support him any longer, and Mark fell to his knees. </p><p>Every emotion Mark shoved down bubbled to the surface, and he let them boil over. Every fit of anxiety or fear or anger he had washed away with water and deep breaths and clenched fists; they writhed and fought for his attention, pulling at his consciousness and demanding to be heard, be felt.</p><p>He felt them all.</p><p>His anxiety over having been chosen for such an important task, whether or not he would be able to please the elders, the tribe, the spirits, and Ryujin. Ryujin, he worried about being able to make her happy, and whether he would ever be able to be happy with this wonderful girl he didn’t choose. Mark feared the consequences of being unable to do what had been asked of him, that the tribe’s splintering would be his fault if his example was not made and maintained.</p><p>But the anger was loudest of all. Rage coursed through Mark where his blood should have been, and he swore he could see red as he remembered every time a villager sneered at him because he was different or an elder scowled at him for not being obedient and pliant. Mark’s own village resented him, it was a joke to ask him to act on behalf of the whole tribe.</p><p>Mark craned his neck, searching for the moon despite the expanse of looming storm clouds and the fact that the sun had yet to completely set. It was a habit, he already knew he would not find her. Even if the sky shone black, clear and calm, it was to be a moonless night.</p><p>“You chose wrong!” Mark screamed out at nothing and everything.</p><p>He squeezed his eyes shut as the rain finally fell, but he did not let it in. Water lied, it twisted and contorted to fill whatever space it wished, it bashed and beat against shores and rocks and other people’s wills until it had their compliance. Mark bent over his knees again as the rain soaked into his tunic and the hairs on the back of his neck, he clutched his knees and the fabric around his legs, and sobbed, sorrow raking his body, the only emotion left he could feel.</p><p>The sky blackened with Mark kneeling in the darkness of a night the moon abandoned, and there was little comfort there, in his world of spirits and elders and magic that gives and blesses until it doesn’t. </p><p>⚘</p><p>Donghyuck most definitely got himself lost.</p><p>He had never wandered so far from the caves before, nothing around him looked familiar. There were way too many trees to see anything that wasn’t directly in front of him, and none of his mountain peaks breached the canopy to give him some sort of clue as to where home was. Donghyuck groaned inwardly, he didn’t mean to get lost, he was just thinking and walking and got distracted. For the better part of a day.</p><p>The sun hung dangerously low in the sky, or Donghyuck assumed it did, there were storm clouds gathering to block her out so he couldn’t see, but he could feel the warmth in him starting to dissipate. Donghyuck dug around in his thick black pelt to check how many snacks he still had tucked away there, he would have to hang around for at least another day if he ended up unable to read the stars to guide him back. He had an apple and a few chunks of bread.</p><p>“Damn it,” Donghyuck huffed through a mouthful of bread.</p><p>He chewed and mulled over finding some sort of shelter for the night, preferably before the rain started. Donghyuck didn’t particularly care for rain, it made everything soggy and musty.</p><p>A piercing shriek made Donghyuck fall to his knees, slamming his hands over his ears to try to block out the sound. He heard so much all at once, and it hurt, blistering rage and incredible sadness. The screams wailed on like nothing Donghyuck had ever heard before. Everyone had their fair share of outbursts, sure, but this was something entirely different.</p><p>Donghyuck rose to his feet and started in the direction of the sounds, not recognizing the rain falling around him in sheets, he ignored it, not letting it touch him.</p><p>The crying really carried, Donghyuck realized, as he kept walking farther and farther into the alien woods, the emotions only becoming louder as he kept going. He left his hands pressed to his ears, but it didn’t do much to suppress what he heard, and he wondered what could possibly cause such anguish.</p><p>A huge wall of overgrowth met Donghyuck where the sobbing reached its peak, it had quieted significantly, but was still loud enough for him to follow. He tried to go around, but the sound seemed to be coming from inside. Was the person stuck there? Donghyuck prodded at the brush, slowly circling the perimeter to look for a way in. The foliage suddenly seemed to swallow his arm and Donghyuck stumbled forward without resistance, stopping to take a deep breath and pull his pelt tight around his shoulders.</p><p>The sun set and Donghyuck had chills.</p><p>He moved, bent over to avoid low hanging branches, with unsure steps where he could fit through the hole in the growth, still listening for the sorrow. </p><p>Donghyuck felt the brush widen and fall away, with eyes on the ground, the first thing he saw were flower petals and weeds strewn across the ground beneath his feet. He stepped out of the mess and stood to find a large clearing, and a crying boy. Donghyuck felt his nostrils flare when he finally saw the culprit who screamed in his ears and made his head hurt.</p><p>This boy sat a few feet in front of Donghyuck, kneeling and bent over with his head in his hands, sobs shaking his whole body. Water had ravaged the boy, absolutely soaked him. He didn’t even have a pelt, only a plain tunic that looked nearly plastered to his skin. His hair didn’t fare much better, black and dripping down his neck, his forehead. The sight softened Donghyuck’s irritation, and he felt more curious than anything, honestly.</p><p>He couldn’t help the question, “What are you doing?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>me, a fiend, posting after almost a month:<br/>i hope everyone had a wonderful summer solstice, and as a birthday present to me this chapter is no longer tormenting my brain :)</p><p>another AMAZING birthday present would be if you were to check out this BLM support site and help where you can and however you are capable:<br/><a href="https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/">Black Lives Matter</a><br/>Donate, Educate, Speak Out, Have the Conversation.</p><p>As always, thank you for reading</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I on purpose didn't give a lot of exposition, that will come in the next chapter, I just wanted them to meet. Thank you for reading if you made it this far. :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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